My road trip: Day Six. A little ranting…

Drove from Portland to Olympia, Washington (where I write this), about midway on my road trip, and I have a few observations to make about some things I encountered.

Not to complain or anything, but the road people really have I-5 torn up, resulting in pretty massive backups. On the plus side, there are no fires this far north, a relief after Northern California and Southern Oregon, where the skies were leaden with smoke and the air thick with the stench of ashes for hundreds of miles. The temperature is a lot lower here than it was in Medford and Salem by a good 30-40 degrees or more. As I write, it’s about 63 degrees and overcast, with drizzle. But this is the Pacific Northwest! You want heat, go inland.

Now a word about Google maps. Two words, actually: YOU SUCK. Google maps is okay in wide, open spaces and on freeways, but it suffered a complete nervous breakdown in Olympia, which is not a particularly big city (only 51,000), but it is the capital of Washington State, and is wedged in between two gigantic freeways (I-5 and 101). Man, oh man, did Google maps get lost! It had me driving round and around the State Capital Building, a lovely, Beaux Arts structure, but all I wanted was to get to my hotel. And it babbled like, well, a Trump tweet. “Turn left. Turn right. Turn left. Turn right,” all in the space of one block. What’s a lost driver to do? I actually stopped by a gas station, told the clerk my plight, and before I knew it, a cadre of local men, bless their souls, was debating over the best way to get me to my destination. Between the collapse of Google maps and the rather turbulent conversation, I was ready to find the nearest bridge and jump off. But somehow, we managed to find my hotel. And with all that twisting and turning and braking, Gus lost it, and vomited in my rental car. Fortunately, I’m always prepared for such incidents. Gus rides in the passenger seat, which I always line with a clean, white towel. I now have four vomit-dirty towels; tomorrow morning, I shall do laundry.

Anyhow, that’s more than you need to know about my road trip! I’ve been out of touch with the news all day, but a quick check gave me fodder for a little Trump bashing—in this case, the son, Donald, Jr.

Now I have to confess to a visceral dislike of him. Partly it’s his Gordon Gekko appearance, with the slicked back hair and the designer suits. But Gordon Gekko, as played by Michael Douglas, at least was good-looking. Junior thinks he’s a hottie, but he’s ugly as a horse’s rear end, with his lips permanently twisted into smug contempt, and jowls already testifying to a life of gluttony. He’s in the news a fair amount, unlike his younger brother, Eric, so we’ve been treated to many quotes from him, and they’re usually nasty insults—like his father’s. He’s the typical mean, rich lucky sperm kid.

He made waves yesterday with his comment that Democrats are like Nazis. Really, Junior? You’re comparing Democrats to Nazis? Your father is the one American Nazis worship. Your father is the one white supremacists love. Your father—well, what’s the point in going on. Donald Trump, Jr. is a POS. Don’t you long for the day when we’re rid of that entire Trump kleptocracy?

Well, it’s been a long day on the road, so I’m ready, on this Thursday evening, for some booze and food. And so, for that matter, is Gus (not the booze; just the food). Have a wonderful weekend, and remember to VOTE, and tell everyone you know to VOTE.




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